


Quartet for Two Voices

by Alixtii



Series: Watcher!verse [44]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 2020's, Absent Spouses, Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bathrobe, Bedroom, Bedroom Sex, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Boxer Shorts, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian of Color, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Cleveland, Coed Nudity, Condoms, Cunnilingus, Curly Fries, Drinking Tea, Education, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Character of Color, Female Protagonist, Foursome Minus Two, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Going to Bed without Sex, Grading Papers, Het, History Teacher, Kinsey Scale, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Lesbian Having Sex with a Man, Lesbian Protagonist, Married Character, Married Male Character, Married Man with a Woman Not His Wife, Morning After, Mornings, Multiracial Canon Lesbian Character, Multiracial Canon Queer Chracter, Multiracial Character, Multiracial Character of Color, Multiracial Female Character, Multiracial Lesbian Character, Multiracial Queer Character, Multiracial Queer Female Character, Nudity, Offscreen Bisexual Characters, Offscreen Foursome, Oral Sex, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Lesbian Character, POV Queer Character, POV Third Person, Phone Call, Poly, Polyamorous Characters, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Present Tense, Protagonist of Color, Queer Character, Queer Het, Queer Protagonist, Queer Themes, Rare Pairing, Requited Love, Sex, Sex in the Morning, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Pizza, She's Not Straight They Just Love Each Other, Sleeping Naked, Spousal Swap, St. Clare's Academy, Tea, Tradëscan Codex, Underwear, Undressing, Unrequited Lust, WJLEO, Waking Up In an Empty Bed, Watcher/Slayer Sex, We Just Love Each Other, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixtii/pseuds/Alixtii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange and not strange at once. Not strange because Kennedy and Giles must have shared a bed dozens of times; strange because it's the first time Dawn or Faith or both isn't in it with them, and at the end of the day, he's a guy and she's, you know, really damn gay. (She's not straight they just love each other.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quartet for Two Voices

She's got to admit, it's a little awkward when it's just the two of them.

Right now, Giles is sitting next to her on the living room couch, and they've just finished off a pizza pie and an order of curly fries, and this is the point where usually, they would go and have sex.

Except that Giles' wife and Kennedy's girlfriend are off in Darkest Africa somewhere mapping out a campaign against an army of Kohawi demons, so their foursome is down to just the two of them, and while Kennedy likes Giles and all--loves him even, he's _family_\--she's really not attracted to him in the least. Nothing against him, of course, it's just that he's a guy and she's, you know, really damn gay.

Which should be fine; it's not like Giles has demanded sex from her or anything like that. She knows he never would, that he's simply willing--okay, eager, he's straight even if she isn't, and she knows she's still smoking hot even if she's nearing forty and looks older--to take whatever she's willing to give, and if he has any expectations for tonight he's playing them close to his chest, for he's already pulled out his copy of the Tradëscan Codex and is taking notes in what is either shorthand or a demonic language, she's not sure which. He's mature enough, secure enough, not to take it personally that she's not attracted to him, doesn't want to have sex with him. He knows it's not that he's too old or not attractive enough (because he is very attractive, in the way that a man almost _needs_ to be at least in his sixties in order to pull off; she knows this because she's heard it from enough women more qualified to judge than she), just that she's a lesbian and simply isn't attracted to men, period.

But still, with all they've been through, it's not like she can ask him to sleep on the couch, even if she knows he would without complaint if she asked him too. They can share the bed without having sex. "Turn off the lights when you come to bed," she says as she gets up, but he shakes his head.

"I'm done," he says, and puts away the Codex and follows her to the bedroom.

They strip out of their clothes--they're long past being uncomfortable with each other's nudity, and they both know they both usually sleep in the nude--and slip into bed, and it's at once strange and not strange to have this naked man in her bed with her. Not strange because it's Giles, because they've must have shared a bed dozens of times over the past seven or so years, strange because it's the first time Dawn or Faith or both isn't in it with them, strange because it's the first time they're just using it to sleep and nothing else.

It's a large bed--not so large as Dawn and Giles' bed over in Bath, which was custom-made, but large enough to fit, albeit four people who love each other very much in it without it becoming _too_ uncomfortable--so they could each stay to their own side of the bed without interfering with the other too much. But they don't avoid each other's bodies, because why would they?

She knows she's safe with Giles, that he has all her back in all things but wouldn't dream for a moment of trying to _protect_ her, because she has as much patience for that sort of thing as Faith does, which is to say none at all. It's one of things she suspects made Dawn think they would be good for each other.

She thinks of Faith and Dawn, her girlfriend and her lover, and wonders what they are up to wherever it is exactly that they are. Knowing them, probably either fighting (which is what they're there to do) or fucking (which is a whole lot more fun). She envies them.

She slides up next to Giles, her breasts pressed against his back and her head buried in his neck and her hand on his chest and, minutes later, she is fast asleep.

* * *

She wakes up the next morning by herself, but there's still a warm space where Faith--no, not Faith, Faith's in Africa with Dawn. Giles, which makes more sense, because Faith's not exactly an early riser.

She pulls on a robe and makes her way to the kitchen, where Giles is sitting, dressed in a white tee and boxer shorts, with a cup of hot tea and the Codex open in front of him. "How could you possibly be working this early in the morning?" she asks, as she pours herself a cup of tea--it's not coffee, but it is hot, caffeinated, and available without waiting, which right now is good enough for her.

"Good morning to you as well," he greets her.

And she's not sure what to say after that, and it's back to being awkward again.

Screw it, Kennedy thinks, because Kinsey 6 or not--and sometimes she thinks that not even Kinsey can contain just how fundamentally gay she is--the fact of the matter is that this man is her lover, and has been for seven years. She doesn't owe him this, but that doesn't mean she can't share it with him anyway. She's not attracted to Giles, but she loves him, and she likes having sex with him. Okay, she likes it a hell of a lot more when Dawn or Faith is there to get in on the fun, but still it seems wrong for them to be together and not make love.

"Let's go back to bed," Kennedy tells him.

He turns towards her, blinking, his attention suddenly wrenched away from the codex. "You--" he begins, and then stops himself mid-sentence. She knows what he was going to say anyway: you sure? But he stops himself because, she knows, he trusts her to know what she wants

"Now," she says firmly. There's nothing coquettish about the way she says it--she won't insult him by pretending to desires he knows quite well she doesn't feel--but she gets her meaning across nonetheless. She punctuates the command by walking over to him and kissing him, long and deep, and the affection in the kiss is one-hundred percent genuine.

He nods once she's broken the kiss, and closes the codex. "To the bedroom, then," he says. They haven't taken more than a couple steps across the kitchen before he unties the belt of her robe and it falls to the kitchen floor.

She waits until they're in the bedroom to pull off his shirt and shorts, then lets Giles push her down onto the bed on her back, pinning her down for a moment before releasing her.

There's no man in all the universes who knows her body as well as Rupert Giles. It's familiar territority, every hill and valley of her flesh, and his fingers and mouth travel her body like a well-worn path, the light touch pleasant on her bared skin. He knows what she likes, and he works with a careful, quiet dedication. This time, all his attention is directed solely at her, instead of her having to share it with Faith or Dawn or both, as she always has had to before.

This isn't something that she's doing for him, her giving and him taking. It's not like she has to lie on her back and think of England. She doesn't want to be the one doing all the receiving either, but she knows he enjoys his lips against her breast at least as much as she does, and probably more. He's hard already, his erection brushing against her knee, and once again Kennedy marvels at just how strange and deeply _weird_ these mysterious things which are male bodies are.

He takes his time, unrushed, clearly enjoying himself without having to barrel forward toward orgasm. She enjoys herself as well, closing her eyes in order to focus on the sensations of his warm hands and mouth. Eventually he works his way up the inside of her thigh until he finally slips a finger into her, then two.

This is someone who knows not only her body, but women's bodies in general, who has long experience in giving women pleasure, and knows precisely what to do in order to maximize Kennedy's enjoyment of the act. It's a shame he wasn't born female, Kennedy reflects.

She suspects he can give a mean blowjob too, but she's never been in a situation where that hypothesis could be put to the test. Sex with just one man in the room is more than enough for her, and she suspects that Dawn is much closer to a Kinsey 4 than a 2, even if she would object to having her sexuality be labeled and categorized that way, put into a little box on a numbered scale.

There were times--when she was single, before Faith, after Willow, when the world was bleak--when Kennedy envied Dawn her bisexuality. It seemed so much easier to be able to just pass as straight, to be able to go to any bar or club and bring home one of what seemed like a million eager and willing boys positively drooling at the chance to fuck her. But Kennedy has never been a woman for whom the easy road had all that much appeal, in the end. This is the way God made her: gay, mixed-raced, and a Slayer, and she'd rather die than run away from who she is.

But if a lesbian is what she is (and it is, no question about _that_), then Giles' fingers inside her have no power to make her any less so. They can only bring pleasure, and are not to be feared. She spreads her legs wider, to provide him better access as he works, and is rewarded with a wave of pleasure as his thumb presses against her clit. "God, that feels good," she tells him, as she, almost involuntarily, pulls her knees toward herself until the flats of her feet are touching.

He smiles. "I can tell." And if there's a slight haughtiness in his voice, it's earned, because he _can_ tell, because he knows her body that well. She realizes that in the years they've known each other, he's studied her, one of his Slayers, at least as intently as he has any of his books, no less in the bedroom as in the field. That's how Giles works: always studying, cataloguing, making connections between data points, not stopping until his knowledge is complete.

The pressure builds, then abates somewhat as Giles removes his hand and replaces it with his mouth, his tongue. It's gradual enough that she almost doesn't even notice, but she can feel her body slowly growing more and more tense as it prepares for climax. Even so, it's still another minute or two before it happens--and then happens again, her whole body shuddering in orgasm.

"Fuck," she moans, dragging out the syllable until the sounds no longer form a coherent whole.

It's another moment before she regains her faculties, once again processing the input she's receiving from the world around her. Giles is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her, his hand on her thigh.

He's still hard, she realizes, has yet to come himself; indeed, his own genitals have not so much as been touched. She briefly--_very_ briefly--considers taking him in her mouth, but as comfortable as she may be with his body, she's not _that_ comfortable.

"I think we have condoms _somewhere_," she tells him, trying to remember where. "I don't know how old they are."

"I have some in my bag," he says, his voice sort of apologetic, as if he's afraid she's going to conclude that he planned all this. Which is nonsense; if she were Giles, she would always travel with them too, if for no other reason than to always be able to keep _Dawn_ supplied at a moment's notice.

"Well, go get them then," she tells him, letting impatience seep into her voice.

He returns a few moments with the condom, puts it on himself--good, because she has no clue how to do it, despite being taught once upon a time, decades ago, in her high school sex ed class--and then he positions himself over her and slides inside her. Even with the condom on, it's not quite the same as the feel of a dildo or strap-on or vibrator, although if hard pressed she's not sure she could articulate the difference; it's at one firmer and softer as it presses into her.

Their bodies are pressed against each other now, and she takes the time to kiss him, her lips against his shoulder, as her arms wrap around him, holding him close. And it's okay that she's not consumed with passion, or at least not _that_ sort of passion, because every kiss, every touch is perfectly sincere.

"I really need a shower," she tells him. "I'd offer you to join me"--she knows he would like that, even if all they did was wash each other's backs--"but." They're not in Bath, where Dawn and Giles' mansion hosts a master bathroom with a shower that can hold all four of them at once and a bathtub double that; they're in Faith and Kennedy's apartment in the faculty dorm at St. Clare's with just a single-stall shower that barely manages to fit one person comfortably. The last time she's had a bath was, well, the last time she was in Bath. "You can go first if you want," she offers.

"That's okay," he says. "You go."

She takes a quick shower, then speeds through doing her hair--it's a Saturday and she has no need to leave the apartment--and lets Giles have the bathroom.

She pulls on a bra and panties, and is about to open a drawer to pull out a pair of jeans when a thought occurs to her and she smiles and doesn't, turns and exits the bedroom instead, stopping only to grab a stack of her students' term papers which has been sitting on her night stand for about a week now.

She sits down at the couch in the living room and begins grading papers. She hates grading papers; every single one always seems to be further proof of her failures as a teacher. She had never planned on teaching history--her vocation is _killing things_, not talking about them; she'd much rather be wielding a sword than a red pen--but just kind of found herself doing it after she moved in with Faith at St. Clare's Academy, and while she has found many things to love about her new job, sometimes grading papers makes her question them all.

Giles exits the bedroom, dressed in what for him--and only for him--passes as casual wear. His eyes grow wide when he sees her undress, but doesn't say anything, simply sits next to her and opens the Codex.

"Tell me I'm a good teacher," she tells him, as yet another student mixes up Franklin and Theodore.

"You are an excellent teacher," he tells her, and it feels better hearing it even if she told him to say it. "You understand your students, set an example they can aspire to, and treat them fairly. I look forward to the day when we can send Madelyn here to learn her history from you."

"You're just saying that because you can't wait to get her out of your hair now that she's a teenager," Kennedy says, but she's suddenly touched, because she knows Giles wouldn't have mentioned Madelyn if he didn't believe what he's saying. "I don't even like history."

"But you care about your students, and that's more important," he says, then smiles. "But yes, the girl can be a holy terror. She takes after her mother, you know."

Kennedy smiles back. "I know." She turns back to her grading, and they work in silence for the next twenty minutes.

The phone rings. "It's us," says Dawn. "Apocalypse averted."

"That's good," Kennedy answers. "I'll tell Giles he can stop hiding under the bed now." She winks at him.

Dawn laughs. "Are the two of you having a nice time there in Cleveland?"

"Yeah," says Kennedy, reaching over and resting her hand on her lover's knee. "We're having a great time."


End file.
